Category Archives: Stories

GAVIN TAVISCHOLM sits in a cell on the southern side of the dungeons below Darkwind Keep. The window on the wall just beyond his cell faces the lands of the Frost Giants. The sun, lowering over the Davor Mountains sends a shadow through the bars of his cell over his body. Stripped of his crown, his armor, and his dignity, Gavin was put into an orange jumpsuit with metal bracers around each wrist. Instead of his normal war boots, Gavin now wears flat bottomed, soft soled shoes. He sets his head into his hands and sweat drip from his long string silver hair and brow.

“My men turned on me,” Gavin mutters to himself. “and now I am trapped in this hell hole.”

“Ach, me boyo, do ye not remember ye teachings,” a spirit says with a Scottish-like accent.

“Master, Master Sheratin?”

“Ach, ye actually remember me.”

“I have no key.”

“Boyo, ye’ve lived on this rock too long. Ye have the power to get out on ye own. Ye need no key. Look within.”

Then, the spirit of Gavin’s former master disappears. A determination, a resolves swells to the surface within Gavin.

STARRAGAAR AWAKENS in the strange bedroom. She clutches her head as she is still in a lot of pain. At first, her vision is blurry. Everything in the strange bedroom is fuzzy. Then, after a few moments, Starragaar’s sight starts to become clearer. At her feet sleeps Sebasti. She screams when she sees the brawker. Sebasti jumps as Vanolin, Tara, and Janeeri enter the room.

“This has got to be a dream or I’m in hell,” Starragaar mutters trying to clear her head and focus on where she is.

“Someone I know well was here, too. I remember hearing his voice. I believe that he told you my name.” Starragaar says sitting up and petting Sebasti on the top of his head. Sebasti’s two tails wag wildly.

A few days later, as Janeeri is taking care of the alien pilot, her fever spikes again. Janeeri thought, or hoped, that the fever was breaking. No such luck.

“I wish there was something more I could do for you, love. I only know field medicine. And limited at that.” Janeeri tells the unconscious pilot as he wipes her forehead. He, then, hears a rapping sound at his front door. He leans in a kisses her forehead. “Back in a minute, love.”

He, then, places the rag back on the nightstand and starts to head out of the bedroom. Sebasti lifts his head to see what’s going on.

“Whur?” asks Sebasti.

“Stay here and watch over her.”

“Ruff!” barks Sebasti in agreement as he watches his master head off to the front door form the bedroom.

Janeeri arrives at the front door and opens it. Before him stand two familiar faces, an older gentleman, in silver armor over a blue tunic with a pattern of gold circles connected by gold lines; and a younger knight, in silver armor with three wavy lines upon the shoulder cuffs over a deep blue tunic.

“Gavin! Vanolin! What an unexpected surprise!” he says to his two guests.

“Where is she?!?” gruffly asks the older gentleman, with a gray beard, as he holds a beat up dark gray helmet with two stripes carved into it. The sticker on the front of the helmet is in shambles.

“Sir, I do not know whom you talk about.” Janeeri says confused by his former lord’s question, well, demand.

“I will ask this one more time, Janeeri,” Gavin says flipping the helmet over to the tan furred human, who catches it and looks it over. “Now I know you were there. Don’t deny it. Where is she?”

Vanolin shuts the door after he and Gavin enter the house. Janeeri leads them through the living room and the dining room to the bedroom at the back of the house.

“Lovely home you have here. Built it yourself?”

“Yes, indeed, Gavin. Enjoyed every moment of it.” Janeeri says as they reach the door to the bedroom. “Why is she so important to you?”

“Family friend.”

“Okay. But quietly, she’s sleeping.”

All three enter the room where the alien pilot lays in Janeeri’s bed. The sheets and pillowcases are base light blue with dark blue and brown in a cross linear pattern with squares and rectangles in the pattern as well. The red-headed pilot is moaning and sweating profusely.

“I don’t know what to do. She has a raging fever. I just try to cool her down with a wet rag.”

“Janeeri, you’re doing everything you can,” Gavin tells him. “From what you are telling me, her healing factor seems to be working over time. She’ll heal soon enough, son.”

“You mentioned that she is a family friend?” Vanolin asks with one brow raised.

“Oh yes,” he remarks. “Boys, this is Starragaar Rellagaari of the Royal House of Bengaal.”

BY MID-MORNING, GAVIN, VANOLIN, and their patrol enter a field on the outskirts of Valendale Woods. Debris is everywhere. All of them disembark their horses. Gavin looks around the field and makes a small remark to himself.

“Debris of a starfighter.”

“Sir?” Vanolin asks the king quizzically.

“Nothing.” The king replies.

“Spread out and search the field for anything significant.” Vanolin orders his men.

The knights under Vanolin’s command spread out. A very wiry, quick knight by the name of Wilhelm Gainright finds something very significant indeed. He holds it into the air. It’s the pilot helmet of Starragaar.

“Sir, I found something,” the dusty blond knight shouts.

“Bring it to me,” Vanolin orders Lord Gainright.

Lord Gainright rushes over to Lord Gavin and Lord Vanolin.

“Here you go, sir.” The wiry knight says to Vanolin as he places the rather battered helmet into his hands.

“Thank you, Sir Wilhelm. Continue your search.” Vanolin tells one of his knights. He, then, turns and looks at Gavin with the helmet still in his hands. “Sir, what do you make of this?”

“Look at the triangular protrusions on the top of the helmet.”

“I see them. So?”

“Only a few races, I know of, use helmets like this.”

“Sir, what are you talking about?”

“And these markings,” Gavin says rubbing his fingers over the carved stripes in the top of the helmet. “This helmet is Bengaali.”

“Sir, what is a Bengaali?”

“You’ll find out soon enough.” Gavin tells Vanolin while he is still holding the battered helmet of Starragaar. “Now tell your men to wrap up and head back. I need you to take me to Janeeri’s home.”

“Yes, sir.”

Gavin looks off into the sky holding the helmet himself now. He bounces the helmet in his left hand while gripping it with his right hand. Why are you here?!?

Kayla awakens to the sounds of birds chirping. For the first time in years, she feels at peace. The raven headed beauty hardly remebers the previous night.

It all seems like a dream. She thought to herself as she looks around the room filled with vibrant colors of pink and purple, her favorites. Suddenly, a red flag goes off in her head. This room seems awfully familiar.

And it should young one, Kayla hears in her head as she realizes that last night was not a dream after all. This is, after all, your own bedroom from when you were little.

Who are you?!? Kayla thought as she curiously looks around the room rapidly looking for her mother.

A friend of your mother’s. She hears in her head as the doorknob begins to turn.

“Actually, more than a friend,” the middle-aged 47-year-old hispanic man says to her as he walks in with a tray of food, i.e. eggs, bacon, toast, and orange juice.

Like this:

Michael stands atop a hill overlooking the ceremony of his love, Lind McKay. He could not face the McKays himself, but he still had to pay his respects, even if from afar. Tears come to his eyes as the wind whips around him while person after person lays white roses upon the coffin of Linda McKay. His sister, Deborah, follows up by placing the locket he gave to her upon the casket. A request of his to his sister.

“My heart goes with you, my love,” he murmurs to himself as a detective of the Storm City Police Department comes to his side.

“Here.” he says placing the ring in Michael’s hand. “I though you might want this.”

“Thank you, Trevor,” he says to the dark haired detective as he places sunglasses over his now light sensitive eyes.

“I promise you, Michael, we will find Linda’s killers.”

“You better get to them before I do.”

“Don’t do anything stupid, Michael,” he tells the angry, heart broken young man.

“Hey, it’s me.” Michael says sarcastically with a huge grin.

“That’s why I warned you.” Trevor says to his friend. “This may be bigger than you think. Your curiosity tends to ruffle feathers.”

Trevor, then, turns and walks down the hill over to the road where his car, a 1997 silver Chevrolet Malibu, was located. Michael hears the motor turn as he watches the funeral attendees leave. As the Malibu leaves the cemetery, Deborah looks up atop the hill where she thought someone was standing earlier. Then, she hears the roar of a motorcycle.

Copyright Info.

All material upon this site is Copyright Rainey Press, 2012. Rainey Press is a Copyright of Bryan Rainey, founder and author. All rights reserved. Express written permission Rainey Press and Bryan Rainey. All characters are completely fictional and the works are completely original in content. Any likenesses to actual people is purely conincedental and meant as no offencse by the author.